• This is the 7th in the Just Between series. It was written and posted prior to the beginning of the fifth season, around the last half of September, 1998.
• To my beta readers who helped me with this prior to posting, my eternal appreciation.
• This was originally called Just Between Then & Now.  This title is more appropriate.

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager sat quietly in sickbay, determined not to fidget as she glanced through the windows of the office to the fluctuation of opaque force shields surrounding the bio-bed where the Doctor was examining one of her crewmembers. It was not standard procedure for the captain to stand by as one of her crewmembers underwent a medical examination but then, this person was far from being just a mere crewmember to her.

Annika Hansen had been six years old when she was assimilated by the Borg, and spent eighteen years in the Collective as a drone, designated as Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01. Voyager's captain wasn't exactly sure what that title meant other than the fact that Seven was the drone assigned to work with her when she had been forced to temporarily ally herself with the Federation's greatest enemy. A wild series of events had culminated with the ship being flung out of Borg space, leaving Seven of Nine severed from the Collective, and abruptly part of Janeway's crew.

Seven's adaptation to joining Voyager had been fraught with complications, not the least of which was her and the captain falling in love. Recently, the Collective had come looking for their missing drone, and though Janeway had managed to sever Seven from the Borg yet again, both women were still feeling the repercussions of it. Seven's physical return to Humanity had been set back tremendously, and she had spent the last month wearing a silvery, skin-tight bio-suit which could not be removed while her body healed from the many surgeries required to detach various metallic implants from her systems.

The force shields suddenly flickered and went down, revealing a tall, slender woman with narrow features and blonde hair done up in an austere bun. She still sported gray metallic devices around her left eye and on her right cheek, as well as a fibrous mesh covering her left hand. A silver biosuit hugged Seven of Nine's well proportioned body, tracing the abdominal ridging which bracketed her torso like an old style corset. Janeway tried to get a sense of what was going on from the Borg's expression as the Doctor and Seven joined her in the office, but the young woman's ice blue eyes gave no indication what to expect as she sat down in the chair next to the captain.

The sparse, trim figure of the Doctor, dressed in the blue and black uniform of Starfleet Medical made himself comfortable in the chair behind the large desk. It was a rather unnecessary conceit since he was actually an Emergency Medical Hologram who had little need of comfort. Still, his program had been in almost constant activation since being lost in the Delta Quadrant, and as a result, he had achieved a certain sort of sentience which displayed itself in a multitude of ways.

"I have some good news, and I have some bad news," he told the captain with a thin smile.

"Go ahead," she prompted, an edge in her tone.

"Seven's physical regeneration is progressing at a considerably accelerated rate compared to the last time," he explained. "As a result, I have to remove her abdominal implant much sooner than anticipated."

Janeway nodded. "And the bad news?"

"That was the 'bad news'," Seven noted evenly.

Startled, Janeway looked at her partner, frowning. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor took a deep breath, though of course, that was pure dramatics on his part. He did not need to breathe, after all. "Seven's body has undergone severe trauma by being assimilated a second time. She simply can't afford to ever be assimilated again. Unfortunately, she's not where she should be for me to be removing the implant so soon, but the fact is, the implant is already starting to be rejected. You know as well as I do, how difficult the last operation was."

Unconsciously, Janeway reached over to entwine her fingers with Seven's left hand, though her face remained calm. "How bad is this?"

"I could die," Seven offered casually. "In fact, the odds are very good that I shall."

The Doctor looked at the Borg sardonically as Janeway felt all the blood drain from her head. "And people think I have a bad bedside manner." He shifted his attention to the captain, raising his brows in alarm as he saw her face. "Captain, are you all right?"

"What are you telling me exactly?" Janeway responded faintly.

The Doctor favored Seven with a reproving look. "Contrary to my patient's lack of faith in my abilities, I believe I can successfully remove the implant a second time. I won't lie to you, it's a serious operation, especially since she has undergone so many intrusive medical procedures recently, but I have the benefit of having a far more experienced Sek assisting me, and the repetition of it will make for a much quicker operation. In truth, the odds are about the same for Seven as they were the first time. Obviously she survived that quite nicely."

Janeway glanced at Seven who looked back, raising an eyebrow, looking completely unrepentant for scaring her partner. "What exactly is the good news?"

A small smile touched the full lips of the younger woman. "I can now remove my biometric outfit, particularly when I go to bed."

Janeway frowned. Though Seven adored making love to the captain, and was not restrained by the biometric outfit in doing so whenever and wherever she had the opportunity, it had truly started to bother Janeway that she could not return such physical affection. After much discussion and a few tears ... mostly on Seven's part ... it had been decided that they would remain celibate until Seven could once again be an equal partner in their intimacy. However, sex was the last thing on Janeway's mind, and she thought it was a little immature of Seven to be more concerned about it than her upcoming surgery.

"How soon can the operation be scheduled?" she asked, looking back to the Doctor.

"Tomorrow morning," he replied. He looked at Seven. "But there's no harm in waiting a few days."

"Yes," Seven nodded in agreement. "That would be acceptable."

"Seven, if the Doctor thinks it would be best to do it tomorrow, then that's what should be done," Janeway said firmly before the Doctor could reply.

The blonde woman looked at her oddly. "I wish to spend a few days with you,. We can---"

"I don't want to delay this any more than we have to," Janeway interrupted. "Tomorrow morning, you will undergo the procedure."

Seven looked stubborn, but she had promised not to argue with the tone Janeway had just interjected into her voice when other crewmembers were in the area, so she remained quiet. She continued to do so as they left the office and made their way back to their quarters. Janeway eyed her briefly as she crossed the living area, shrugging out of her uniform tunic, and tossing it through the bedroom door where it landed on the bed.

"Are you frightened about tomorrow?" she asked Seven, who busied herself at the replicator.

"No," Seven said shortly as she materialized several food items.

Janeway raised an eyebrow at the tone. "Are you angry about something?"  She went over and perched on the stool by the counter of Seven's work space, watching as the Borg  prepared dinner with an excessive amount of clanging and banging of the various utensils and containers.

"Yes," Seven responded, and favored her with a dark look.

"Why?" Janeway asked, frowning faintly.  She poured herself a glass of wine from an open bottle which Seven placed on the counter with an audible thud.  The captain hoped the sediment at the bottom had not been unduly disturbed.

"Your behavior," Seven said flatly, and proceeded to chop up the defenseless vegetables with unnecessary vigor.

Janeway paused in raising her wineglass, looking at her partner with astonishment. "My behavior?"

Seven terminated her chopping, and stared balefully at her. "Who are you to decide when I have an operation? It's my body. I should be the one to decide."

Janeway blinked, honestly confused. "Seven, you don't delay something like this."

"It was my decision," Seven insisted. "You have no right to treat me like a child."

The captain took a breath. "I was unaware that was how I was treating you," she said, schooling her voice to patience. "What specifically are you angry about?"

"You didn't even listen to what I was saying in the Doctor's office. I wished to delay the operation a few days. There was no harm in it and the Doctor and I had already discussed it. Yet, you went ahead and ordered him to perform it anyway, in total disregard of how I felt."

Janeway set her glass carefully down on the counter. "Annika, you are also a member of my crew. In certain situations, I have to do what's best for you as that crewmember. The sooner you have the operation, the sooner you'll be in recovery."

"Or the sooner I'll be dead," Seven snapped. "Is that what you want?"

Janeway stared at her, and Seven abruptly looked stricken, as if she couldn't believe what had just come out of her mouth.

"I think we need a moment here," Janeway said distantly, having felt the words slam into her like a blow to the very pit of her stomach.

"I agree," Seven said. She put down her knife and gazed at her hands as if she had never seen them before.

Janeway nodded. She walked away from the counter over to the windows which dominated the living area. Through the transparent aluminum, she could see the stars seeming to streak by as the ship traveled through space, their twinkling light distorted by the warp field surrounding the vessel. In the glassy reflection, she saw Seven move around the counter and come up behind her, though the Borg did not try to touch her.

"I am sorry, Kathryn," she said softly.

Janeway took a breath. "I accept that," she said calmly, though she was far from calm inside. "I would like to know what prompted you to say it."

Seven shook her head. "I am angry," she replied. "It upset me that you were so dominating in the Doctor's office. You are often domineering, but now it bothers me. Yet I know you would never wish me harm. It was wrong for me to say such a thing."

"I'm not trying to dominate you, Annika," Janeway said slowly, turning to face her. "That's not my intention."

"Yet, you do," Seven said. "Furthermore, you use your rank to justify it. I am not just your crewmember, I am your partner. I am also an individual, and I must decide what is best for me."

"Delaying the operation serves no purpose," Janeway protested weakly.

"When I have the operation is irrelevant," Seven said with emphasis. "This is about you deciding when I do. It should be me making the decision, or us discussing it and deciding together, not you simply ordering me to undergo it."

Janeway nodded briefly. "All right. I can see where you would interpret what occurred in the Doctor's office as me being presumptuous, but I thought that's why you wanted me with you. To help you decide."

"To help me, yes. To decide for me, no. I wanted you with me for support only," Seven said. She moved closer until she was a mere handbreadth away, though she still didn't reach out. "Kathryn, you insist that I should be independent, yet at the same time, you keep insisting that my independence has limits."

"Independence does have limits," Janeway said quietly. She could feel the warmth radiating from Seven standing so close, and her expression softened as she looked up into Seven's serious face. "But you're right," she admitted with difficulty. "Sometimes I try putting limitations on you that I have no right to. Sometimes I also disregard the fact that you're perfectly capable of making up your own mind, but I never intended to hurt you."

Seven nodded. "I know. I did not mean to hurt you either, by saying what I did. It was unacceptable of me."

Janeway rested her hands on Seven's biceps, wrapping her long fingers around the slender muscles. "Sometimes things just get said in the heat of the moment. But I'm worried. Do you think you will die, Annika? Are you afraid of that?"

"It is a possibility," Seven said, reaching up to grip Janeway's elbows. "I do not think tomorrow will be a good day to die."

There was something in the cadence of the phrase that tipped Janeway off. "You've been speaking with B'Elanna about this, haven't you?"

B'Elanna Torres was Voyager's chief engineer, a Klingon/Human hybrid whose feisty personality made for an interesting contrast to the cool, restrained Seven. The two young women had become friends after some initial antagonism, and now the engineer was Seven's closest confidant. B'Elanna was also completely opposite Janeway in demeanor and attitude so sometimes, Seven found herself being pulled in two directions, influenced by two very strong personalities.

"We have been discussing it recently," Seven admitted. "I do not know if I am ready to go to Sto-Vo-Kor."

Janeway slid her arms around Seven's waist even as the younger woman wrapped her up in a warm embrace. "Annika," she said, looking into the pale eyes intently. "You are not going to die. You didn't last time, you're not going to this time."

"On the contrary," Seven corrected, frowning briefly. "There was the situation last time when my respiratory and circulatory systems shut down. It is entirely possible I used up all my 'luck' then."

Janeway took a breath, forcing herself to be patient. "Darling, there's no such thing as luck. Just the Doctor's skill and your strength which are immense. I have complete confidence in both of you. And what makes you think you'll end up in Sto-Vo-Kor anyway?"

"I could be considered a warrior," Seven said, vaguely offended.

"Yes, you are, but Sto-Vo-Kor is a Klingon belief. You're not a Klingon."

"B'Elanna says that doesn't make any difference," Seven said. "Sto-Vo-Kor seems a great deal more interesting that the 'heaven' ventured by most Human faiths." She paused, studying the captain intently. "What do you think happens after you die?"

Janeway hesitated. "I'm not sure," she responded carefully. "I do believe in an afterlife. I remember, during our third year here, I came in contact with an entity that pretended to be the spirit of my father. I knew it wasn't really him, but not because I thought the essence of my father had stopped existing once he died. But I have no concrete theory to offer you, darling." She frowned as she regarded Seven. "You're not going to die," she added in an irrefutable tone.

A small smile quirked Seven's lips. "Is that an order, Captain?"

"Yes, it is." Janeway hugged her fiercely. "I don't know why you're so occupied with dying, Annika, but I really want you to stop and concentrate on living instead. On getting through your operation and being back at my side as soon as possible. All right?"

"Very well," Seven said. She kissed the top of Janeway's head. "Will you stop making all my decisions for me?"

Janeway sighed. "I promise to try."

Seven wondered if this was what becoming mature was all about. The last time she had been incapacitated in this fashion, she had felt lost and alone, even when Janeway had been in sickbay with her, afraid of how she would look, and what the results would be. Now, if Kathryn didn't have a chance to visit, Seven was still secure in her love, knowing that Janeway was thinking of her, and calling her on her comm badge whenever the captain had a spare moment. Seven did worry briefly about Janeway's safety, but she had received Tuvok's personal assurance he would keep a special eye on her during this time. Seven had complete confidence in his abilities, as well as knowing Janeway's unique talent for coming out on top no matter what, so the Borg found it easier not to be concerned. After all, Janeway had stared down the Borg Collective itself. A few aliens trying to board their vessel and cause havoc was hardly anything to get excited about.

Seven regarded her reflection in the mirror. Her new outfit was blue with gray sleeves, in shades that reminded her remarkably of her partner's marvelous eyes. It fell sleek and trim over her newly regenerated torso, pressing tight over nerve endings that literally sang with sensitivity. She rotated, peering over her shoulder to see as much of the back as she could before once more facing the glass.

"I trust it is to your satisfaction," the Doctor remarked as he watched her preen in front of the mirror.

"Yes, it is acceptable. I especially like the color. It is the exact shade of Kathryn's eyes when she is most happy."

Behind her, thinking himself unseen but clearly visible in the reflection, he made a face. "That was not exactly what I was intending."

"Nonetheless," Seven responded, amused. "That is why I most appreciate it."

"Well, as long as you like it," he said, dismissing the whole thing with a wave of his hand. "You still have the brown one as well, just for variety."

She turned and faced him squarely, the gray implant which framed her left eye glinting metallically in the fluorescent lights of sickbay. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Just try not to get assimilated anymore," he grumped, arms crossed over his chest. "I spend hours removing those implants and you promptly accumulate more. It's becoming tedious."

"I shall endeavor to avoid it in the future," she responded seriously.

Picking up the padds where she had recorded most of her work, she left sickbay and headed for the astrometrics lab. It was 1400 hours and the alpha shift had not yet ended. Janeway, according to the computer, was still on the bridge negotiating with the local inhabitants of the system to return their people to them. Criminals that the system did not really want but nonetheless, would end up acquiring because Seven knew Kathryn certainly didn't want them either.

She finished out the shift and returned to her quarters where she found Janeway stretched out on the couch, arms crossed over her eyes. Immediately concerned, she crossed the room and knelt beside the reclined woman.

"Kathryn?" she asked, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps all her confidence in Janeway's indestructibility had been misguided after all.

"Annika?" Janeway seemed dazed as she sat up. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in sickbay."

"I completed my recovery a few hours ago," Seven said, sitting on the couch beside her and gathering her up in her arms. "What is wrong?"

Janeway groaned and closed her eyes, leaning against Seven tiredly. "I must have lost track of the days. I thought this was only the second day since your operation. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I was planning to go and see you, but I thought I'd take a moment to lie down."

"It is acceptable," Seven said soothingly, rubbing her back gently. She knew Janeway's 'moments' when she hadn't been sleeping. "I know that you have been busy with the Nillerha. Did they accept the transfer of their prisoners?"

"Mmmm," the captain replied drowsily. "They didn't want them, but I finally made them take them."

As if there had been any doubt, Seven noted.

"When did you last sleep?"

"Not counting five minutes ago? When did I see you last?"

Seven stifled a sound of exasperation. That had been the morning of the operation, four days earlier. "Kathryn, you must look after yourself when I cannot," she said firmly. "When did you last eat?"

"What day is it again?"

"This is not amusing," Seven said with annoyance, hearing the smile in the captain's voice.

"Well, I guess I'm not as good at looking after me as you are," Janeway remarked, snuggling closer to Seven. Her hands were busy probing the Borg's torso through the outfit, apparently to see if the implant was indeed gone. "How are you feeling?"

"I am fine," Seven said. "You are tired. I am taking you to bed."

"Wonderful, I thought you'd never ask," Janeway mumbled.

Seven knew Janeway didn't quite know what she was doing or saying, so she ignored the hands roaming over her body as she picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Once there, she dumped her on the bed, and began to strip off the wrinkled and somewhat dusty uniform.

What had the captain been doing? Seven wondered as she tossed the garment aside. Janeway obligingly crawled under the covers, then reached out for Seven.

"Come to bed," Janeway demanded with only the slightest crack of command in her tone. Seven saw fit to ignore it.

"I am not tired," she responded reasonably.

"Neither am I," Janeway replied, before falling asleep in mid-leer.

Seven smiled and pulled the blankets up over her partner, pausing to regard her fondly for a few moments.  Then she kissed her gently on the temple before returning to the living room and her desk where she brought up her slipstream project. As she set to work, she analyzed the past hour and her interaction with the captain. Just when she had despaired of Janeway ever accepting her as a completely equal partner, she found herself taking care of her as if she were a child. Seven came to the conclusion that perhaps relationships were not always equal. That sometimes one partner played the dominant role at different times. It was quite a revelation and she made a mental note to discuss it both with Kathryn when she woke, and with B'Elanna the next time she saw her.

While Janeway seemed to be dominant most of the time, Seven allowed that there were a great many situations when the captain acceded to her wishes. She realized the argument they had indulged in the night before her operation might have been somewhat selfish on her part. Perhaps she had just been a little frightened at the thought of the operation after all, and had taken it out on Kathryn. It was unfair, but not without precedent. She knew there were times when she and Kathryn argued, when what they were fighting about was not the actual issue. It was just hard to figure out what the issue was sometimes when emotion took over, and did not allow for proper analytical assessment.

She added a few more quads of data to her console, and regarded the result with satisfaction. They could begin working on the shuttle now, adapting it to the slipstream technology she had assimilated during her time as One of Many. Once the shuttle had made a successful transition, proving that the drive could be coupled with Starfleet technology, and hull integrity would still be maintained, then they could begin work on Voyager herself.

Then they would be home.

Seven paused as that thought crossed her mind. Home. She tasted it silently, looked at the word, the concept, from all angles with inward eyes. Once she had been in the Alpha Quadrant, meeting both her own distant relatives, and Kathryn's family before returning to the Delta Quadrant. It had been a unique experience and where before, Seven had been completely ambivalent about returning to the Alpha Quadrant, now she was as anxious as any of Voyager's crew to return. Her recent assimilation had given her the key to making it happen and she tried to imagine how it would be to finally return to the Federation.

She wondered what would happen to her once they did. She knew that she would do everything in her power to stay with Kathryn, but she contemplated where and how they would live. Would Kathryn remain with Voyager or would she have a different ship? Would Seven be allowed to accompany her on such or would she be required to go through the Academy and join Starfleet? Would they stay with Gretchen, Kathryn's mother, when they first returned or would they make their own living quarters elsewhere?  What of their status as a couple?  Would they be officially married by then or would they wait until their families could attend the wedding?  What of children?

So many questions, with no real way to answer them until they actually returned. Seven realized that she had never speculated when she was with the Collective, never wondered what might be. This was a particularly Human quality, and she decided she liked it. It made her feel happy inside, though she readily understood that speculating on negative outcomes, could make her correspondingly unhappy. It amazed her that she could experience emotions based on what might happen as easily as what actually did happen.

She shut down her board and went into the bedroom, entering the ensuite in order to prepare for bed. Janeway had not commented on her new outfit, but then, Seven suspected that her partner hadn't really noticed it, so she swallowed her disappointment and recycled the suit for the next morning. She paused a moment before the large mirror overlooking the sink to study her renewed form, regarding  the flat, muscled stomach and navel with a keen objectivity, deciding that the Doctor had done an equally efficient job this time.  She rotated, trying to see as much of her back as possible, remembering what had happened the last time it had been removed, of having Kathryn present as her newly regenerated flesh was revealed to her, tingling pleasantly inside as she did so. It really was a shame that Kathryn had been so exhausted this day; Seven's nerve endings were crying out to be stimulated, and she had to take a moment to control herself, channeling her desire into patience before going out into the other room and crawling into bed next to her partner.

The captain stirred, muttered something and rolled over, sprawling over Seven's chest in sybaritic pleasure, resting her leg heavily on the young woman's thighs, snuggling her head comfortably into the nook of the Borg's shoulder. Seven was amused, fully aware that it had been completely unconscious on Janeway's part, the smaller woman possessive of her physically, even in her sleep. She remembered Kathryn telling her once that until Seven, the captain had always experienced difficulty sleeping with another person, preferring to keep the other body at arm's length.

Seven suspected that was a fallacy, because from the first night they had been together, Janeway always ended up so closely entangled with her it was hard to tell where she left off and the captain began. It was fortunate Seven did not experience any sort of phobias about being trapped, because frequently Janeway's arms about her neck were of sufficient tightness as to be slightly choking.

Yet Seven loved every nano-second of it. Smiling gently, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off to sleep, cradling her lover with quiet joy.

When she woke again, the illumination for morning watch was up and Seven was gone, though Janeway could hear her moving about in the outer living quarters, the familiar sounds of home soothing, comforting. With a faint smile, the captain shifted position, wrapping her arms around Seven's pillow so that she could breath in the faint scent of her partner, content in the knowledge that neither of them would be expected on duty, and even if she was needed, her comm badge was only a few feet away. She did not quite know how she had got to bed the night before ... the last thing she remembered was laying on the couch talking with Seven who was out of sickbay ... but it didn't really matter as she snuggled into the warm cocoon of blankets. Once again, she dozed off.

An unspecified period of time later, she lay suspended between dreams and reality, of soft desire and the acute need to wake, to feel the full sensation that was beckoning so irresistibly. Making a sound in her throat, she forced herself up through the cottony fog surrounding her to the heat of a body pressing lightly down on her, of the mouth covering hers, kissing her with focused intent. She made another sound, a pleased moan of pleasure and arousal as she identified Annika's form on her, the arms that cradled her shoulders, fingers in her hair, the sweet taste of her partner filling her.

She wrapped her arms around the warm torso, responding to the kiss with keen desire, feeling the tongue explore her mouth, dancing along her teeth, entwining hotly with her own. She arched up against the warm body, sliding sensuously against flesh free of implants, of warm, silky skin that was so incredibly smooth. Her small breasts flattened beneath the more generous figure of her lover, the delicate tickle of Seven's newly restored belly pushing against hers, the crinkly thatch of hair tugging at her own as their bodies moved together, gently, slowly. Her legs parted of their own accord, accepting the strong, lanky leg that pressed between them, and she felt a sudden chill of pleasure shiver through her as her vulnerable wetness skidded recklessly along the line of muscle, the sensitive bundle of nerve endings dragged deliciously against the warm thigh.

All in all, it was positively the best way to wake up Janeway had ever known.

The tender lips moved away briefly, and Janeway's head fell back, eyes still closed as her mouth parted to draw breath, inhaling deeply as she felt the lips trace her jawline, moving over her ear, the bright edge of teeth closing gently over the lobe.

"Annika." She breathed the name into the thick mane of blonde hair covering her face, trailing over her, filling her with its fragrance as she nuzzled into its warmth and softness. "Oh, my darling Annika. I've missed you so much."

"Kathryn," came the quiet response in her ear, the love lacing the word with such intensity that it curled around Janeway's senses, taking her breath away.

Janeway ran her hands down the silken back which rippled with finely defined musculature as Seven moved over her, the younger woman loving her completely with her hands, with her mouth, with her entire body. Hard nipples covered with velvet prodded Kathryn, the strong line of Seven's thigh pressing firmly against the captain's center which responded with a flood of moisture, and Janeway found herself undulating without conscious volition, moving against the maddening pressure which made her stomach contract, made her want to cry out from the sensation that filled her, overpowered her...

"Bridge to Janeway."

"No, oh no," Janeway moaned. "No, no, no, no, no...."

"Bridge to the Captain."

"Oh god."

Janeway felt very much like weeping as the wonderful body eased off her, coming to rest against her side as she blindly reached out to her right, groping for the comm badge, finally finding it on the night stand. She had to strongly resist the urge to fling it against the nearest bulkhead just so she could see it shatter into a million pieces.

"Janeway here," she said, in a voice that could slice duranium.

"Captain, long range sensors are detecting an anomaly," Chakotay's voice said without mercy. "I really think you should come up and take a look at it." There was a hesitation, a regretful pause. It was doubtful Voyager's first officer knew what was happening, but he could probably tell from her tone that she was not happy at being disturbed. "Sorry, Captain."

"Understood," Janeway said evenly. "I'm on my way."

She cut the signal and took a second to lay back against the sheets, trying to compose herself. Beside her, she was aware of Seven taking one deep breath after another, attempting to bring her own desire down to manageable levels.

"Damn," Janeway said with heartfelt despair. She turned to Seven's head resting on the pillow beside hers, bringing her hand up to rest her knuckles against the warm cheek. "I'm sorry, darling," she whispered.

"I too, am very sorry," Seven responded sincerely.

Groaning, Janeway rolled out of bed, and staggered a bit as she stood up too quickly. She cast a glance backwards at the Borg still on the bed, Seven's light coloring making her a blonde and silver streak against the deep blue of the Starfleet issued sheets. The young woman was achingly beautiful, hair flowing wild about her features soft with arousal, the wide eyes a dark sapphire into which Janeway wanted to plunge and never emerge. The generous breasts were heavy and full, the pink-shaded nipples taut with readiness, the sleek line of Seven's newly formed belly flexing as she shifted, the blonde triangle tangled, moist at the apex of the long legs that seemed to run on forever.

Janeway wanted to scream with sheer frustration as she was forced to turn away, and stumble into the bathroom. Angrily she programmed the shower, setting it to iceburst to drive away the heat suffusing her body, attempting to clear her mind by putting her head directly under the driving spray. She supposed that she should be grateful that this was the first time the couple had ever been interrupted this way in all the time they had been together, but it was a cold consolation to assume that the law of averages had finally caught up with them.

She stepped from the shower, shivering as she blinked water drops from her eyes, finding Seven waiting for her with a warmed bath sheet which she promptly wrapped around the captain. Over Seven's shoulder, Janeway could see a freshly replicated uniform sitting neatly folded on the sink counter, the pips and comm badge already attached.

"Damn, damn, damn," she mumbled as she dried herself off quickly, and began to pull on her uniform. "This had better be a really impressive anomaly."

"It must be unusual, or they would not have contacted you during your off shift," Seven noted as she made a quick pass through the sonic setting which was much quicker than the hydro setting.

Janeway always chose the hydro because the vibration of the sonic waves which shook off dirt tended to set her teeth on edge and give her a headache. Right now, her crew could not afford to get her with a headache on top of everything else she was feeling. It was bad enough that she was already chewing nails and spitting out tacks.

"Well, we'll know soon enough," Janeway said shortly, running a brush impatiently through her hair as Seven drew on her skintight suit.

The captain did notice that the outfit was different than any other she had seen Seven wear, a blue and grey material that did wonders for the younger woman's pale eyes. "I like that," Janeway added off-handedly as they strode rapidly for the turbolift. The dazzling smile that rewarded that comment was far out of proportion to the compliment and despite herself, Janeway felt marginally better about things as the lift doors slid shut on them. "Is it new?"

"Yes," Seven responded in a happy tone. "I chose the colors myself."

"You like blue and grey?" Janeway asked curiously.

"They are my favorite combination of shades," Seven said warmly.

Seven's eyes pinned hers, raising an eyebrow significantly, and Janeway blushed as she realized what Seven was referring to. "I'm glad," the captain said, feeling absurdly pleased and flattered.

Seven opened her mouth to respond when the two of them were suddenly thrown into the walls of the turbolift, impacting into the walls with solid thuds which were muted by the awful sound of tearing metal as the ship shook around them. They fell to the floor in a tangle, tossed helplessly from side to side, and there was a terrifying drop as gravity disappeared, the lift plunging a deck or two before the emergency braking system brought it to a screeching halt.

Then, everything was still, which was even more ominous because even the normal sounds of the ship's engines and air circulation were absent, indicating a complete loss of power. Dazedly, Janeway eased away from Seven who was stirring under her, having shielded her from the worst of the impacts.

"Seven, are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

"I am functioning," Seven responded evenly. Which meant she was pretty shaken up since she tended to fall back on her Borg-influenced sayings when her own vocabulary, which was quite extensive by now, totally failed to offer words to explain how she was really feeling. "There is no illumination."

"No," Janeway replied worriedly. Even the emergency lights had not come on, and there was a shudder around them as the turbolift slid down a little, the sound of stressed metal raising the hair on the back of her neck. She slapped her comm badge. "Janeway to bridge. Report." She wasn't really surprised at the silence that answered her, but still felt a stab of disappointment. Whatever had happened had impacted catastrophically on the ship's systems. Communications was one of the more sensitive areas and easily disrupted. "Anyone, report. This is the Captain."

Another pause as she peered fruitlessly through blackness darker than anything that she had ever experienced. Her eyes ached from staring so hard, and when the emergency lights finally did activate, they were almost blinding in their fretful, dim flickering. She blinked hard against the tears that sprang to her eyes, and tried her comm badge again. Still no response and she sought out Seven who was regarding her alertly.

There was another lurch, and the turbolift dropped another few inches.

"I believe it would be advisable to vacate this lift," Seven remarked calmly.

"I think you're right," the captain responded readily.

Whatever happened to the rest of her ship would have to wait until she got herself safe.

If she could.

"Okay, it's open," Janeway said, and Seven carefully lifted her up through the open hatch.

The turbolift shook as Janeway crawled across its roof and Seven winced, but the lift did not drop any further. She peered uncertainly into the dark shadows over her, but could see nothing.

"All right, I'm clear," Janeway's voice drifted down to the Borg, and Seven crouched, then leaped for the opening above her.

The strength of the leap was sufficient to propel her halfway through the hatch, and she searched quickly for a hold on the roof before she slipped back. She managed to scramble the rest of the way, the car shifting unsteadily beneath her, and she reached out for the access ladder just as the footing dropped out from under her entirely. For a few apprehensive seconds, she was suspended only by her fingers wrapped around a single rung, but then her feet found purchase on a lower one, and she glanced down in time to see flame billow up as the turbolift smashed into the bottom of the shaft. Fortunately the flame petered out before reaching the two Voyager crewmembers clinging to the access ladder, though they were buffeted by a blast of hot, choking air.

"Are you alright?" Janeway asked anxiously from above.

Seven raised her head, barely able to discern the pale circle that was the captain's face several rungs above her. "Yes," she replied. "Now what?"

Janeway started to climb. "This leads all the way to the bridge. That's where we should start."

Seven judged that they had about seven decks to go, and she sighed silently as she followed in the captain's wake.

"Do you have any ideas about what might have happened?" Janeway asked in a frustrated tone as they climbed.

"Several possibilities come to mind," Seven responded. "But without further data any one of them remain plausible. Would you like me to list them?"

"How many are there?" Janeway asked cautiously.

"One hundred, thirty-seven," Seven replied. "There are also nine-hundred and fifty-three less plausible but equally possible scenarios."

"Let's just save our breath for now," Janeway suggested gently.

Seven raised an eyebrow and continued to climb. When Janeway stopped, she did as well, head back as she tried to see what was going on above her. She could hear Janeway's breathing deepen as she worked at the panel next to her, and then a soft grunt as the captain strained at the doors.

"Do you require assistance?" Seven asked politely.

"Can you get up here?" Janeway responded.

"I will try," Seven said, and climbed up until she was behind Janeway, reaching around her to grasp the ladder. Her feet were one rung below the captain's while her head was at the same level, and she noted their difference in height idly.

"The manual override isn't responding," Janeway explained over her shoulder as Seven pressed against her back. "I can't get enough leverage to force the door."

"Perhaps my implant will work," Seven said and wrapped her right arm tightly about the ladder as she reached out with her left.

She forced her metal covered fingertips into the slight crack and began to exert a steady pressure. As she did, she was suddenly aware of Kathryn's body against hers, the fragrance of her soft perfume and the arid tang of sweat as the captain contributed her Human strength in helping to force the door. She did not know how she could be so aroused when the situation hardly lent itself for her to act upon those feelings, but she wondered what Kathryn would do if she leaned forward just a little to kiss her ear.

"Seven, keep your mind on the matter at hand," Janeway ordered with a touch of annoyance, and Seven was startled to realize she had been nuzzling the mussed, auburn hair.

"Of course, Captain. I am sorry," Seven apologized though she wasn't at all, and refocused her attention on the door. With a spurt of energy, the door gave way with an outraged squeal of metal, and gritting her teeth, Seven forced it open the rest of the way.

She took a few deep breaths, resting as Janeway clambered up the remaining rungs and crawled through the opening. Then Seven followed, brushing at her outfit absently as she stood, looking around the bridge. It was empty and dark, a few, isolated lights flickering fitfully here and there on the consoles. She frowned as she looked around at the damaged control center, at the captain's chair wrenched off its mooring to lay on its side on the deck, at the shattered panels and twisted metal.

"This can't be right," Janeway muttered uncertainly. She walked down the stairs and stared around her bridge uncomprehendingly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. There was an air of desolation about the area, and wonderingly she reached out and ran a finger along the tactical console. It came away, thick with dust, which did not make sense at all. Uneasily, she went to the board, touching the pad smeared liberally with dirt, trying to bring up something that would give her some clue as to what was going on.

"It looks as if it's been abandoned for months," Janeway said. "Maybe even years."

"The Stardate is current," Seven responded evenly, though she was far from calm inside. She raised her eyes to meet Janeway's, sure that her face was now as pale as her partner's.

Janeway opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, seemed lost. "I don't understand," she said finally.

Seven touched more controls, studying the data she was receiving. She was aware of Janeway crossing the bridge to her, leaning over her shoulder as she worked. "Main computer is not responding," she told the captain. "There seems to be no higher computer functions at all. Only simple maintenance programs detailing ship's status."

"She's been stripped," Janeway said after a moment.

"'Stripped'?"

Janeway took a breath. "It's almost as if Voyager's been decommissioned," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Everything of value is gone, main computer, warp engines, only minimum power to activate emergency lights in the event someone needs to come on board. There's no life support, though according to this, there should be enough air to last a few more hours."

"Is this a temporal incursion of some sort?"

Janeway shook her head slightly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not sure what is out of synch, the ship or us." Her face was serious as she accessed the board herself, elegant fingers pressing through the layer of grime.

Seven left her to it and went over to the operations console which provided little more information than the tactical console had. But by cross-linking the emergency lights, she was able to channel power to the few remaining outer sensors and the viewscreen. It flickered to reveal the stark blackness of space littered with the remains of many vessels drifting abandoned around them. Beyond this ship's graveyard, the reddish bulk of a planet beckoned. For some reason, this all looked familiar in the way Seven knew was attributed to some memory not of her own, but of the Collective.

Across the bridge, Janeway gasped audibly and Seven looked at her, disturbed at the expression she saw on the captain's face. "What is it?"

"This is Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards," Janeway said in an odd tone. "The shipyards orbiting Mars."

Mars? The fourth planet in Earth's system? Seven took a breath. "We have returned to the Alpha Quadrant?" she queried with a certain disbelief.

Janeway did not get a chance to respond before the thin whine of transporters heralded the appearance of five figures in Starfleet environmental suits that sported badges indicating they were from Utopia Planitia Control. Phaser rifles were leveled toward them, and Seven noticed with a flicker of amusement that four were aimed at her while only one covered Janeway. Of the two of them, Seven considered the captain to be a far deadlier threat in any set of circumstances.

"Identify yourselves," the muffled voice came out of the speaker on the front of the space suit of the closest figure.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager," Janeway responded promptly, raising her hands so that they could see she was unarmed. "This is my astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine."

"She's reading as having Borg technology," muttered a feminine voice from one of the other figures, tricorder held high in Seven's direction.

"Never saw any Borg that looked like that," a third voice countered with an appreciative leer in his tone.

"Pipe down," ordered the first voice, clearly the group's leader. He had to turn his whole body to face Janeway. "Perhaps you'd care to explain what you're doing here, Captain?" His tone indicated he hadn't believed a word she had said.

From Kathryn's expression, the way the muscle jumped slightly in her jaw, Seven knew that Janeway was not surprised by his disbelief, though still slightly annoyed by his manner. She remained silent, content to take her lead from her captain.

"Can you tell me when this ship was decommissioned?"

"A year or so ago," someone responded to the tone of command before the leader could stop them.

Janeway took a deep breath. "Is this Stardate current?" she requested, gesturing at the board.

The leader nodded. "It's correct. Forgive me, but this ship returned from the Delta Quadrant a year and a half ago. From what I can remember, the captain of it was promoted to vice admiral and is supposed to be assigned to the Starfleet Olympia Complex the last I heard. Are you sure you want to stick to this story?"

Janeway hesitated. "Perhaps you should take us to your superiors," she suggested.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said," the leader said.

Seven was watched warily as she walked around the console to take up a position at Janeway's side, but she ignored them, focusing her attention on the captain. Janeway gave her a tight nod, reassuring her that she had everything under control, though Seven could in no way figure out how her partner was managing that.

Sparkles filled her eyes as the discarded remains of Voyager's bridge disappeared and a transporter beam whisked her away.

Seven sat quietly on the sofa, watching her pace. "Do you think Commander Fulton believed us?"

"Not any more than the previous four people we've told this story to," Janeway responded dryly. "But we do seem to be working our way up the chain of command. We should be getting a captain next. Or at least, the commander of the base himself."

"Is that good?"

Janeway managed a half-grin. "Well, they haven't sedated us and handed us over to the Starfleet Psyche ward." She stopped and looked down at Seven, her hands on her hips. "They might think I'm crazy, but the DNA does identify me as Kathryn Janeway, and you're definitely Borg. I'm pretty sure they don't know what to do at this point."

Seven looked thoughtful. "How is it possible that Voyager returned a year ago, yet the Stardate is still the same?"

Janeway took a breath. "I don't think this is a temporal situation, Seven. I think we've fallen into some sort of alternate reality. There is precedent for this. Starfleet records show at least one known alternate reality where the Federation fell to an alliance of Klingons and Cardassians."

"The 'mirror' universe," Seven identified. "I have read of that. Humans had an 'Empire' rather than a Federation."

Janeway nodded. "That's correct. In our second year, we also ran across a parallel dimension, but this isn't it. In that one, Voyager was destroyed so that ours would survive. I'm not sure where we might be. The only difference we've come across so far is that I somehow got Voyager back home more than a year ago. I wish I knew how."

"We found a wormhole."

Neither Janeway nor Seven had heard the door open, and they both started abruptly, turning toward the entrance. Seven rose to her feet before freezing in disbelief, and Janeway thought she should feel a lot more unnerved than this, more disturbed at the sight of the auburn-haired woman standing in the doorway, flanked by the smaller, blond figure of a woman that the captain recognized as Admiral Alynna Nechayev.

"Kathryn?"

Seven was stunned, gaping unabashedly at the compact figure dressed in the black and grey of Starfleet, the insignia of a Vice Admiral at her collar. Janeway was more composed as she stared, not in astonishment at the similarities, but rather avidly picking out the differences between them. In addition to the uniform and rank, the newcomer's hair was long, and swept up in a bun instead of Janeway's current short cut. There was also a gold band around the ring finger of the left hand with the accompanying diamond, and an oddly strained look cast shadows on the high-boned features that mirrored her own.

The Vice Admiral was returning the scrutiny with equal keenness, sweeping her up and down with a measuring glance that seemed to take her apart. Janeway had never been on the receiving end of  her 'Look' before and it both startled and amused her.

Honestly, she thought, it isn't any wonder people squirm under my attention. It's just like Daddy's look. It makes people feel like they're three years old. Of her crew, only Seven had ever defied that gaze with any sort of regularity.

However, Kathryn Janeway was hardly the sort to be intimidated, and she found she was straightening, squaring her shoulders under her old style uniform and returning the 'Look' eyeball for eyeball.

"Well, I must say, she certainly has your attitude, Kathryn," Admiral Necheyev said with a touch of amusement as she brushed past the Vice Admiral to walk around Captain Janeway. "So what do we have here? A temporal incursion?"

"No, this is a matter of alternate realities," Seven piped up.

Janeway stifled a sigh. She should have asked Seven to remain quiet while she did the talking. Necheyev was immediately drawn to the tall, blonde, raking her with a frown.

"You're a Borg," she said and she uttered 'Borg' in the same tone as she would say, 'Denebian Slime Devil'.

"I am no longer of the Collective," Seven responded in a more subdued tone, apparently picking up on the disdain in the voice.

Janeway was immediately at her officer's side, frowning as she regarded the admiral.

"Seven of Nine became a member of my crew a year and a half ago, and has acted as my astrometrics officer with extreme competence," Janeway said coldly. "She has, on at least three occasions, been directly responsible for saving Voyager and her crew from certain destruction."

"I've never had a Borg on my ship," the Vice Admiral interjected.

"That was your loss," Janeway said tartly.

Necheyev raised her hands. "Let's not get bogged down here," she said, eyeing the two redheads with a certain amount of wariness. She dipped her head briefly at Janeway. "I meant no disrespect. We are aware that the genetic code does show that you match exactly with our Vice Admiral Kathryn Johnson. As for the B--...your officer, she matches a civilian scientist named Annika Hansen who's here on our base."

Janeway's eyebrow arched. Well, now she had two more pieces of information on the differences between the universes; the knowledge that Seven's counterpart existed as well, and where the wedding ring came from. Apparently in this reality, 'Janeway' had married Mark Johnson, her childhood friend, and the man she had been engaged to prior to being lost in the Delta Quadrant.

Janeway shot a glance at her partner who seemed very young at that moment, eyes wide as she looked back at Janeway, clearly uncertain. The captain wanted to reach out to her and hug her reassuringly, but this was not the time. If she remembered correctly, Necheyev had an almost rabid distaste for the Borg, and it was incumbent on her that she protect Seven as best she could. To do that, she needed to be thinking clearly, not as Seven's partner, but as her captain.

Vice Admiral Johnson was nodding, her mouth a firm line. "Perhaps if we figure out where we diverged," she suggested reasonably. "We would have a better idea of what we're dealing with here."

"Take a seat," Janeway commanded, motioning to the table in the corner of the room.

Johnson and Necheyev exchanged looks, clearly hesitant at how Janeway had abruptly taken charge, but they went over and sat down without further discussion. Janeway made sure Seven was seated, taking an instant to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly as she passed behind her, then took a seat herself at what could be considered the head of the table.

"Where do we start?" she asked, looking at the admiral. She did remember the chain of command, even though it had been a while, and she realized suddenly she had been acting a bit presumptuously. She wondered if this was what Seven meant when she complained about her domineering manner. But it was just her way. After five years of being the sole Starfleet authority within light-years, she couldn't help it. It just surprised her that her counterpart accepted it so easily.

"Obviously, both Voyagers were lost in the Delta Quadrant," Necheyev said. "Take it from there."

Janeway took a breath, and began to recount Voyager's journey. Every encounter of the first three years she brought up seemed to match with Vice Admiral Johnson's recollection. Any details that differed could have been a matter of faulty memory or perception ... until they came to Borg space.

"Once, I saw the thousands of ships clogging what I originally thought was a clear passageway, I knew I had a difficult choice to make," Janeway said.

"Yes," Johnson interjected. "I decided Voyager would back out of Borg space, skirt the area, maintaining our distance and hope that the war would keep the Borg from trying to come after us. It was a hard decision, but one which would allow us to survive."

"That is not what happened." Seven spoke for the first time in a long while.

"Going around would have added over a hundred years to the journey," Janeway said, frowning as she regarded her counterpart. "I wasn't prepared to give up that easily."

"We couldn't very well go through," Johnson responded, looking at her oddly. "To interfere with a war between the Borg and Species 8472 was a clear violation of the Prime Directive. Going around was the only option."

"Obviously not, because I went through," Janeway said, a hint of asperity in her tone.

"How did you manage that?" Johnson said, grey eyes pinning the captain's.

"I negotiated with the Collective," Janeway said, a bit proudly. "Free passage through their space and in return, we would assist in defeating Species 8472, which was the greater threat."

The captain allowed herself an inward grin when she saw the expression on her counterpart's face. Honestly, was that how she looked when someone shocked her? Something like a fish out of water, she noted, mouth open a little, eyes bulging slightly. Very unattractive.

"You interfered with a war that did not concern you other than being between you and where you wanted to go, allied yourself with the greatest threat the Federation has ever known?" Admiral Necheyev was also astounded but there was more anger in her Slavic features as she glared at the Voyager captain. "How exactly did you help the Borg?"

Janeway hesitated. "The Doctor discovered that by altering Borg nano-probes, they could affect Species 8472," she admitted. "Giving us a weapon to use on them."

Now that it was said so plainly, she got the sense that perhaps it was a little worse than she had allowed herself to believe. At least, it sounded a lot worse. She wondered if it would go over any better in her own reality.

"You gave a weapon of mass destruction to the Borg?" Johnson said in utter disbelief.

Janeway's eyes narrowed at the tone. "Species 8472 threatened the entire Delta Quadrant," she said, gently dangerous. "What else could I have done?"

"By skirting Borg space, we came across a wormhole that brought us home," the Vice Admiral said quietly, in an equally deadly voice. "It seems that not only did you shatter the Prime Directive, you cost your crew their best chance at returning home."

Janeway felt the blood thunder in her ears, and hoped her dismay did not show on her face. But there was one in the room who knew her too well, and was quick to jump to her defense.

"If the captain had not entered into the agreement with the Collective, Species 8472 would have destroyed the Borg." Seven said, her words clipped and very precise. "They then would have gone on to exterminate the rest of the Delta Quadrant, as I am sure they are doing in this reality at this very moment. When they have spread to the Alpha Quadrant, as they will, there will be no altered Borg nanoprobes with which to drive them back into their space. You will have no protection against them and nothing to negotiate with. You will all be destroyed."

Janeway favored her partner with a small smile. Seven was so fierce, her eyes absolutely sparking. The captain had been on the receiving end of that fury a great many times. She found it quite pleasant to have it shielding her now.

There was a pause as the other two regarded Seven in silence, contemplating her with matching airs of astonishment and unease.

"They are that big a threat?" Necheyev said finally.

Seven centered her laser gaze on the admiral. "They were more than capable of destroying the Borg Collective," she stated flatly. "They are the ultimate in biological evolution. Their very touch is incompatible to organic lifeforms."

"I'm curious," Janeway said, remembering what else had been going on then. "What happened to Harry Kim?"

Her query struck hard, she saw. At the time she had made her decision, Harry had been in sickbay, desperately fighting for his life after being clawed by a member of Species 8472, his body being broken down by the aggressive elements of the alien genetic material.

"Ensign Kim died four days after he was attacked," Johnson said bleakly.

Janeway felt herself mirror the loss, knowing the despair that would have arisen if the Doctor had not been able to devise a cure for Harry in time. Then, she considered what this really meant.

"It wasn't the decision to enter Borg space that was the difference," she said slowly. "It was the Doctor creating the altered nanoprobes. If he hadn't done that, Harry wouldn't have been cured, and I wouldn't have had anything to bargain with. My decision might have been the same as yours if the option of the nanoprobes wasn't available."

Necheyev nodded thoughtfully. "So now we know where the reality altered," she said. She looked keenly at the captain. "Perhaps we should discuss these nanoprobes further."

"There must be other differences," Seven offered, completely unaware that she was changing the subject. Janeway knew, but she was grateful for it. She wanted to know more before she gave away all her cards. "What of my counterpart? I was assimilated by the Borg when I was six. Captain Janeway severed my link to the Collective when I was assigned as the Borg's liaison to her. Here, I am a doctor?"

"Annika Hansen was never assimilated," Necheyev offered, looking at the woman narrowly. "She is well known in her field of propulsion technology, having worked closely with Starfleet the past three years in attempting to adapt Borg transwarp technology to Starfleet vessels. I've met her and she's not very similar to you at all."

"She's not in Starfleet?" Janeway asked curiously.

"No, she acts in a civilian capacity," Johnson said. "I encounter her often in my role as base commander."

Janeway noted the tone. It sounded as if her counterpart and Seven's didn't get along at all. How ... well, the whole situation was odd.

"Oh course, the next point that we need to address is this," Necheyev said, dark eyes darting back and forth between the two Voyager crewmembers.

"What the hell are we going to do with you?"

Seven was very fatigued, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Janeway's arms and drift off to sleep. It seemed an eternity since she and Kathryn had been interrupted in the process of making love, but in truth, it had only been a few days ago, hours filled with telling their stories to various Starfleet personnel, and being cooped up together in this room which, despite its comfortable decor, was clearly a brig of sorts.

That in itself wouldn't have been so bad. It was hardly the first time Seven had found herself locked up with the captain, and some of their most profoundly emotional times had come in brigs as a matter of fact. The problem with this one was that Janeway suspected they were under constant surveillance, and had pointed out the areas where Starfleet would most likely have monitoring devices.  As a result, Seven was forced to act as if she were only Janeway's officer, and not her partner.

That was a strategy they had developed a long time ago. If the situation were uncertain or unfamiliar, then Seven and the captain would remain completely professional, not hinting at their relationship in any way so as not to provide any enemy with a weapon to use against either of them. Despite the fact that they were deep in the Federation, Seven felt as if she were surrounded by enemies. Especially when she saw Necheyev's expression whenever she had caught the Admiral observing her.

Seven found that she was staring at the other Kathryn ... Vice Admiral Johnson ... and had to force herself to look away. The longer she was in the woman's presence, the stranger she felt. She knew that this woman was not who she had fallen in love with or had fallen in love with her, but it disturbed her greatly that this 'Janeway' was so familiar and so chillingly different at the same time. The Borg had taken note of the wedding ring on the Vice Admiral's finger, the difference in last names, having come to the conclusion that this 'Janeway' had married Mark Johnson.

Seven looked at the Vice Admiral's ring that flashed in the muted light of the room and wondered how important it was to this 'Janeway'. Seven understood that such items, uniquely chosen mementos, had exceptional relevance to some individuals. She herself, had something incredibly special hidden in the compartment of one of her implants, the one on her right bicep, an item which she had been secretly carrying for quite some time. When the time was right, she intended to give it to Kathryn. She suspected that Kathryn, upon finally finding out about it, would consider it ridiculously sentimental and far out of keeping with Seven's Borg demeanor. On the other hand, Seven knew for a fact that the captain had an holo-image of Seven encoded into her command authorization so that whenever she logged on to any of Voyager's systems and was working, a small image of Seven was always visible in the lower, left-hand corner of the screen. On a tricorder, it showed up only as a dot, but Seven knew what it was and felt warmed by it. So perhaps the captain was just as sentimental in her own way as Seven had discovered herself to be.

She wondered if this 'Janeway' felt about Mark the same way Kathryn felt about her. It made her uncomfortable to think that in this reality, 'Janeway' could love someone else, knowing that 'Annika Hansen' also existed. Seven realized there was no romantic relationship between her counterpart and Vice Admiral Johnson, having picked that up from the inflections in the voice the few times 'Dr. Hansen' had been discussed. Indeed, it seemed that the relationship was antagonistic if there was any at all.

"Seven."

Startled out of her musing, Seven regarded the two women, not knowing which one of them was speaking. "Yes?"

"Did you pick up any kind of displacement in the turbolift?" Johnson asked her. "Did your ... implants record anything at all?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "There was much 'displacement'," she responded. "From one wall to the other. However, I detected no form of energy beam or indication we were 'transported'. In any event, my implants are incapable of 'recording' phenomena."

She tried to keep the condescending tone out of her voice and knew she had not succeeded by the sharp look Janeway shot her. Very aware of Kathryn's eyes on her, she tried to straighten her shoulders and look professional.

"Seven, you should try to get some sleep," Kathryn said gently, but with the unmistakable tone of command lacing her voice, and only as she would speak to any crewmember.

Seven felt a sudden anger spark within her. She did not want to go to bed, not unless Kathryn was with her. The beds weren't even constructed for two people, narrow bunks which were uncomfortable to lie upon. She was tired of having to pretend she wasn't Kathryn's partner. What difference did it make if they knew?

Her lips thinned as she tried not to blurt out her feelings, tried not to express how much she was missing Kathryn. She did not want to embarrass the captain, especially in front of this other 'Janeway' who so proudly wore the insignia of a higher rank. Kathryn seemed to sense her turmoil and Seven saw her eyes narrow in warning. Taking a deliberately slow breath, Seven nodded.

"I will comply, Captain," she said quietly.

Unhappily, she got up and went into the ensuite which bordered their room. In the mirror over the sink, she could see that there were tears in her eyes, making them glisten, and fretfully she wiped them away with her sleeve. She washed her face and hands before removing her outfit, running it through the recycler before putting on the plain, dull grey pyjamas provided by Starfleet. Then she returned to the other room and placed her outfit on the nightstand before crawling into the bed furthest away from the area where the two older women were talking. She rolled over, facing the wall as she pulled the blanket over her shoulders, huddled against the stiff mattress and thin pillow.

She tried not to cry, awash in a sea of misery.

"It seems your Hansen is no more amenable to Starfleet protocol than mine is," Johnson noted with cool disapproval.

Janeway felt a spark of anger flare. "Seven has been through a lot," she replied shortly, her voice clipped and at its most dangerous register. "I have never regretted bringing her on board my ship. I certainly do not regret the opportunity I have had to know the uniquely wonderful person she is."

Johnson seemed startled, both by the words, and by the furious tone in the captain's voice.  "I hadn't realized you were so fond of her," she said quietly, studying her closely. "My relationship with Dr. Hansen is anything but."

Janeway hesitated, regretting how much she had revealed by her reaction. She still wasn't sure of Necheyev's attitude toward Seven's Borgness, or how much this would have affected her counterpart's view toward any hint of the Collective. She especially had no way of knowing how they would react to her being involved with one, and it was entirely possible that they might think she was unduly influenced by Seven.

Aren't you? her little voice asked archly.

"She's a very important member of my crew," she said finally, crisply.

Johnson nodded. "I guess I understand that," she said slowly. "If this base was more like it was on Voyager, perhaps I would feel a little more connected to the civilians. As it is, I'm never able to get the sense that they're part of my crew, mostly because they go out of their way to show me how much they aren't."

"What exactly is it that you're attempting to do here?" Janeway asked, curiously.

"The Transwarp Directive is an attempt to design starships with propulsion systems that mimic the Borg's transwarp system," Johnson explained. "After my return from the Delta Quadrant, I was promoted and assigned this project, probably because of my ... our father's role in previous Starfleet ship design. Dr. Hansen and her group of scientists were already working on a similar project, work that uses a lot of the information the older Hansens had gathered years ago when they studied the Borg. Once the war with the Dominion started, the group was 'invited' to bring their work into the Project, unifying our approach rather than duplicating it. In the beginning, they seemed quite appreciative of the funding and assistance we could provide. But in the past year, they've developed an attitude that Starfleet is some sort of imperialistic organization that is going to turn their great discoveries into war machines. At least, that's Dr. Hansen's belief, fostered on her by her parents, and passed on to the rest of the team. It's starting to become a problem."

"This base is separate from the Utopia Planetia Shipyards, and is limited to authorized personnel only," the Vice Admiral added. "You were brought here because it is the most secured area on the planet. The whole project is self-contained."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "What happens now?"

Johnson took a breath. "To be truthful, I don't know," she admitted. "No one in Starfleet Command knows what to do with you, so for the time being, they've cheerfully left it up to us. But since you have no idea what exactly it was your Voyager encountered, or how it might have transported you here, we don't even know where to begin on finding a way to send you back. In the meantime, we can provide all the data we have on alternate realities and parallel universes, and take it from there." She hesitated. "I have to admit that if what Seven of Nine says about Species 8472 is true, we're going to need a defense against them."

"You want Seven and I to give you the nanoprobe technology," Janeway said coolly, looking at her. "In return for helping us find a way back."

"An equitable trade is always good," Johnson said quietly, not rising to the bait.

Janeway was suddenly very aware of the difference in their attitudes. This version of herself seemed so much wearier, more jaded than she was. "I'm guessing you married Mark," she blurted, surprising herself as much as she apparently surprised Johnson.

By unspoken mutual consent, they had steered clear of any personal questions or comments, keeping it confined to Starfleet and professional comparisons, but now Janeway felt an intense curiosity that she couldn't deny. There was a pause, and Janeway wasn't sure if her counterpart was going to answer her implied question. Then the woman nodded briefly.

"Mark and I were married six months after Voyager's return," Johnson said, without much inflection in her tone. "He was my stability while I was going through the many briefings and interviews with the brass. I had missed him so much."

Janeway's eyes narrowed. There was something there she couldn't recognize. Some unclear regret.

"In my reality, he moved on," she offered quietly. "He waited a long time, was one of the last to give up hope, but in the end, he knew he had to get on with his life. He married a woman he worked with. Melissa Bell-something."

"Melissa Bellwood," Johnson said in an odd tone. "She's his assistant."

Janeway stared at her counterpart, noting the expression. What have I stirred up now?

"Is he..." she trailed off uncertainly, not sure she even had the right to ask.

"Having an affair?" Johnson said quietly. "I don't believe it's a sexual relationship.  Not yet, anyway."

Janeway frowned and Johnson looked away.

"I accepted the promotion, and this assignment because it would keep me close to Earth," the Vice Admiral went on in a low voice. "Even so, I'm still not home enough, and he has his own career which takes him to other places as well. They're together constantly. He shares his work with her, confides in her, and they have so much in common. I see him maybe once a month, and so much of my work here is classified. She's giving him what I can't, and he's accepting it."

Janeway took a breath, sorrowful for both her counterpart, and for Mark who she knew must also find himself in an unbearable position.

"I doubt we will be renewing the marriage when the term is up next year," Johnson concluded. Janeway recognized the bleakness in her voice, the acknowledgment of failure, which was always anathema to her.

"I'm very sorry," Janeway said sincerely.

Johnson shrugged ever so slightly. "It happens," she said, without interest, almost as if this was something that she had already dealt with, and forgotten about. "I had just been alone for so long ... I guess we didn't work out everything we needed to in the beginning." She focused on Janeway. "I've told you mine, now it's your turn," she said, dredging up a wry grin. "You ever get up the nerve to explore possibilities with Chakotay once you knew it was over with your Mark?"

Janeway swallowed a smile. It was definitely what everyone thought would happen, even herself for a while. Until Seven entered the picture. "My first officer is quite happy with my chief engineer."

Johnson looked a little shocked. "B'Elanna?" she said, eyes wide. "But she and Tom..."

"Didn't work out in my reality," Janeway said shortly. "B'Elanna and Chakotay had always shared something special. They complement each other and of course, they have the history of being in the Maquis together."

"So you're still alone," Johnson said, voice full of compassion.

Janeway could not stifle the grin. "Not exactly, no," she admitted. "There was another possibility I couldn't have anticipated until it reached up and bit me."

Johnson looked confused, thinking furiously. "Tuvok?"

"Oh, god, no," Janeway said, trying not to laugh. "Even if he wasn't married, I drive him crazy enough just being his friend."

Johnson looked befuddled, then horrified. "Not Neelix," she ventured in a whisper.

Janeway did laugh this time. "I'll never be that alone," she said, wondering why her counterpart had suggested that name, then deciding she really didn't want to know.

"Then who?"

Janeway paused, thinking very hard about this, but she was the one who had started the whole conversation after all, instigating the discussion into their personal lives. Now she had to accept the consequences of that decision.  Ruefully, she motioned  with her head towards the figure huddled on the bed across the room. Johnson's eyes followed the gesture, then widened as she realized what Janeway was saying.

"You can't be serious."

"Sometimes you can't choose who you fall in love with," Janeway said with gentle humor. "Sometimes it just happens, and it turns out to be everything you could have ever wanted or needed." Johnson stared at her and Janeway was forced to smile. "As you can imagine, we would be very appreciative of acquiring less monitored quarters," she suggested as an afterthought.

Johnson blinked, then nodded, apparently still dazed. "I'll see to it," she said. "In the meantime, if there's anything else you require..."

Janeway shook her head. "I'll let you know." They stood and she found that she was reaching out her hand to her counterpart who clasped it warmly. "If nothing else, this has shown me a little of what might have been if my choices had been a bit different."

Johnson dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I'm a little surprised myself," she admitted. She regarded Janeway intently. "You should get some sleep, though I know I'm probably wasting my time. We can get you set up with a work area and better quarters in the morning."

"That would be fine," Janeway said, escorting her counterpart to the door. "Good night, Vice Admiral."

Johnson hesitated, then nodded, a glint of amusement in the blue-grey eyes. "Captain," she noted briefly.

Janeway stood for a long moment, staring blankly at the door which had slid shut behind the other woman. This was, without a doubt, one of the oddest situations she had ever been in. It was very disconcerting to have this opportunity to step outside herself, allowing her to get a view of what might have been.

She tried to control her concern about her ship as she headed for the small ensuite attached to the room, worried about Chakotay and the others, wondering what they were going through. Had the entire ship been displaced or was it limited to only her and Seven? The problem was, she didn't know where to begin. They had no tricorder on them when they entered the turbolift, and they had no data as to what had been happening on the bridge. She could only hope that her ship was intact and even now, her crew was coming up with a way to retrieve them.

She finished dressing in the Starfleet-issued sleeping garments, and went out to her own bunk which was opposite Seven's. Her partner had not moved in the last little while but for some reason, Janeway didn't think she was asleep. The captain lay on the uncomfortable mattress, staring at the ceiling in the dim illumination, wanting nothing more than to go over and wrap herself around Seven. But as long as they were being monitored, she couldn't afford that indulgence.

"Seven, are you awake?" she whispered quietly.

There was no answer for the longest time, and Janeway decided that her supposition had been incorrect when she heard Seven's low response.

"I am awake."

Janeway swallowed hard, felt tears sting her eyes at the sadness in the voice. "Seven, you know I...." she trailed off, refusing to say the three little words which were meant only for her partner, and not for the ears of whatever Starfleet technician was responsible for the security monitors on this room. It was too personal and too private, rarely said in front of Voyager's crew who were actually as close as family to her; she was damned if some stranger should hear it. Yet, she wanted so much to connect with Seven, to let her know that she wasn't forgotten, that the situation was as hard on her as it was on the young Borg.

There was a pause.

"I know," Seven said softly. She hesitated. "I do, too."

The couple had to content themselves with that as finally, sleep overcame them both.

It had been a week since they had encountered the anomaly, had been impacted by the sudden surge of energy which had erupted spear-like from the pinkish cloud to pierce the ship's hull, stabbing through it to the space beyond. It had disrupted all their systems, taking hours for main power to be restored. Fortunately, casualties had been light in the sudden shaking the ship had undergone but it hadn't taken them long to realize they had missing personnel. Initially, to their great horror, they had believed that the energy wave had disintegrated the captain and Seven inside the damaged turbolift. It was only now that B'Elanna Torres and Lt. Harry Kim were offering a new perspective.

"We think it was more than just an energy wave," B'Elanna said. "It was actually a corridor to another reality."

"One that took the Captain and Seven," Harry added, his dark eyes intent. The greenest of ensigns fresh out of the Academy when Voyager had been swept into the Delta Quadrant, he was finally starting to grow into himself and all his potential. "They're not dead, just ... somewhere else."

"Where?" Chakotay asked.

"That's what we'll have to find out," B'Elanna said. "By recreating the energy burst and duplicating its signature."

"Then what?" he asked, staring at her.

The raven-haired Klingon shared a glance with Harry. "Then one of us goes through, finds the captain and Seven, and brings them back."

"That simple," Voyager's first officer said, and if there was a touch of skepticism in his tone, it was warranted.

There was no question that the two crewmembers standing before him were absolutely brilliant, and over the span of five years, had come up with countless innovative and remarkable methods of getting things done, incredible things that seemed impossible at first glance. But this was a little unspecific, even for them. He rubbed the tribal tattoo on his forehead with the back of his thumb, an unconscious gesture of worry and dismay.

He glanced over at Tuvok who had been listening to this without comment, one Vulcan eyebrow elegantly raised. The security chief regarded him impassively.

"We have little in the way of alternatives," he pointed out.

"That's true," Chakotay admitted and shifted uneasily in his seat. This chair at the head of the conference table had always seemed uncomfortable to him, just as the command chair on the bridge did. He was always aware that it wasn't his, that whenever he sat in it, he was merely keeping it warm for its true owner. "All right, how long before we can replicate this?"

"A few days, maybe a week," B'Elanna guessed. Considering she was contemplating the inconceivable, Chakotay figured he should be surprised it would take so long.

He held out his hands, spreading them in a gesture of surrender. "Do it," he ordered. He looked at Tom Paris who was observing him closely. "Maintain station-keeping here."

His support staff nodded crisply and vacated the conference room, leaving behind B'Elanna who got up and moved next to him, leaning against the table. He looked up at her, seeing the determination in her eyes, and with a weary smile, he reached out to take her hand.

"Can you do this?" he asked in a private tone, lover to lover, not acting captain to chief engineer.

"I have to," she said simply. She bent down and kissed him gently, biting at his bottom lip.

He held her for a moment before letting her go, knowing she was anxious to get started on this. "It was such bad luck," he muttered, almost to himself. "The way the beam came through, it missed everyone else. It would have missed the captain and Seven if the turbolift had just been a little slower or faster."

"We can't worry about what might have been," B'Elanna said softly. "We have to deal with what is. I'm going to get them back, Chakotay. Count on it."

It made Seven uneasy. She had always been aware of the burden her partner carried, but she had assumed it was a result of being lost in the Delta Quadrant, of being completely responsible for the ship, as well as being the sole representative of Starfleet within thousands of light-years. Vice Admiral Johnson, one the other hand, was home and no longer responsible for Voyager, or the lives of her crew, yet she still seemed more burdened than Kathryn, almost defeated in a way. It was an intriguing puzzle, and Seven was thoroughly absorbed in her observation when an interruption jolted her out of her musing.

"There you are," came an oddly familiar voice behind them. "Dammit, Vice Admiral, I've been searching all over this base for you."

Vice Admiral Johnson turned, annoyance and dismay warring for dominance in her expression. Seven had the briefest impression of a tall, impatient figure that brushed past her, and planted herself in front of the Vice Admiral, hands on her hips, a petulant expression on her face. Seven was marginally aware of Janeway moving to her side, staring at the newcomer in total fascination.  Seven supposed that she was equally astounded by what she was seeing.

"Dr. Hansen, which part of 'Authorized Starfleet Personnel Only' are you having trouble understanding?" Johnson said, gazing up at her opponent with a set jaw, reminiscent of a Terran bulldog.

"I need to know the specs for the experimental ship if we're ever going to get this done," Dr. Annika Hansen snapped back, blue eyes sparking. She was dressed in a long, white lab coat, her blonde hair done up in a bun that was disarrayed, as if neatness was of no concern. "I don't know what pet project Starfleet has you working on now, but you're supposed to be concentrating on...."

Dr. Hansen seemed to notice the two Voyager crewmembers for the first time, and her voice trailed off as she regarded  Janeway and Seven ... mostly Seven ... with complete and utter shock.

"What the hell's going on here?" she blurted, eyes wide.

Seven raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her counterpart. This 'Dr. Hansen' seemed so ... disorganized. It wasn't just the mussed hair, or the less than precise form of speaking. The lab coat, as well as the plain clothes underneath, were spotted with grease and fluid, and Seven's nostrils quivered as she detected the acrid odor of conduit sealant wafting from the woman.

"What's going on here is about to provide you with a small vacation, I'm afraid," Johnson said crisply, and nodded at the two security guards who had been accompanying them. They immediately flanked the young woman. "This is a highly classified situation, and you've trespassed into a secured area."

Dr. Hansen was furious. "You can't do this," she barked. "I'm a civilian, Johnson. You have no right to hold me against my will. Just what are you doing anyway? Are these clones? That's completely unethical."

"It's a long story," Johnson replied, her eyes flashing a deep grey. "But one you'll have plenty of time to hear."

Without another word, she strode down the corridor. Janeway and Seven hesitated, then scurried to catch up, Dr. Hansen and her guards bringing up the rear.

"Vice Admiral, I want to know what's going on," the scientist insisted, her voice strident in the enclosed halls.  Seven wondered if she sounded as irritating when she raised her voice.  It was little wonder Kathryn became so annoyed with her during the arguments they shared during the early stages of their relationship.

Johnson ignored the young woman as she led them into a large, comfortably decorated suite at the far end of a corridor, which was interrupted by several force field emitters.  Directly across the hall, there was a laboratory filled with consoles and equipment, and it was clear that this was an area sectioned off from the rest of the facility.

Finally, the Vice Admiral turned to address them, staring primarily at Dr. Hansen.  "I have to see about covering your absence," Johnson told the infuriated scientist. "In the meantime, you are to stay with them. I'm sure they'll be glad to fill you in. While you will be free to travel about the upper level and the administration level, just as they are, you will not have clearance to return to the transwarp labs past level two so long as this situation exists. Is that understood?"

The tall physicist glared at the Starfleet officer. "You can't just  keep me away from my work. There'll be an outcry from the rest of the team when I disappear."

"Only one of joy, I suspect," Johnson replied shortly. "You might as well calm down and help us figure this mess out."

"What mess?" Hansen said. "What about my experiments?"

"I guess you should have thought about that before you wandered into a secured area," Johnson said. "What exactly did you come in here for anyway? Surely it wasn't to find me. You just wanted to know what was going on, didn't you?"

Caught, Hansen frowned, then glanced at the other two. "Can't they talk?" she asked. "They don't look very intelligent."

"We're not clones," Janeway said calmly. She raked the woman with a look that seemed to dissect her. "As for talking, you seem to be doing enough for all of us."

Hansen's frown grew larger, her gaze darting back and forth between Janeway and Seven. "I'll be damned if I know what Starfleet has in mind creating you two. Duplicates? Are you shape-shifters? Changelings?"

"Captain Janeway and I are from a parallel universe," Seven remarked, finally finding her voice. "You and I are the same person, but from different realities."

Dr. Hansen blinked. "You're kidding."

"I assure you, I am not," Seven said. She tilted her head slightly, regarding her other. "You were never assimilated."

"Assimilated?" Hansen echoed. "You mean ... by the Borg?"

"Yes," Seven responded. "My parents and I were assimilated in the Delta Quadrant nineteen years ago."

"Woah! Waitaminute!" Hansen threw her hands up and walked away, clearly taking a moment to adjust.

Seven noticed that Johnson and the security guards had unobtrusively taken their leave, and she wondered if the force fields had been erected in their wake. The quarters themselves were quite generous, the expansive living area decorated in Starfleet blue and silver, while a small, but complete, dining area was set off to the side, boasting a table with four chairs.  Through various open doorways, the Borg could see what had to be bedrooms, large double beds which were already made up with linens and bedding, and the young woman was struck by a sudden qualm. She certainly hoped that the amount of sleeping quarters didn't mean she was still expected to still stay apart from Kathryn. She stubbornly decided that she simply wouldn't accept that decision should Janeway attempt to make it.

The captain had taken a seat on the sofa, and was watching them both keenly. Her gaze caught Seven's, and the Borg thought that Janeway was mildly amused with this incarnation of her partner. Seven did not share this amusement, and she frowned at the captain, trying to ignore Hansen who was pacing erratically about the room as if she could not contain the energy bubbling within, examining everything while darting baffled glances in the direction of the two Voyager crewmembers at random intervals.

"Nineteen years ago, Mama and Papa were studying the Borg," Dr. Hansen said finally, as if deciding that the only way to figure this out was to explain her presence. "They were exobiologists and managed to gather a huge amount of information on them, including a great deal about the transwarp coils that power their vessels.  When I went into engineering, I drew on that data while trying to develop a transwarp propulsion system for Federation ships. But my parents were never assimilated. They had one close call which scared them enough to abort the rest of their studies, and subsequently made their way back to the Alpha Quadrant where they presented their findings to the Federation Council.  Fortunately, it was enough to pardon the various ... indiscretions ... they had committed in their pursuit of their subjects.  What's your story?"

Seven thought that over for a moment. "In my reality, they were unable to avoid being noticed by the Borg, and were perceived as a threat." She hesitated, seeking memories which were vague and lost in the mists of time and trauma. "I was only six when it happened, but I know their experiments were very important, and that we lived on the Raven for a very long time."

Her voice had gotten softer, taking on the childlike tone it always did when she was struggling to remember the time before the Collective.

"We believe that the Hansens were the first Humans the Borg encountered," Janeway interrupted suddenly, standing up and drifting over to Seven, hovering protectively by her. "The Raven crashed on a world deep within the Delta Quadrant, but the Hansens were unable to escape assimilation. Seven was a Borg drone from the time she was six until I severed her from the Collective eighteen years later."

"Incredible," Annika said, staring at them both. "When I was six, my parents joined the Daystrom Institute. They're still there, in fact. That's where I was raised, and went to school."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed."

"The 'Daystrom Institute'?" Seven asked, looking at Janeway quizzically.

"It's similar to Starfleet Academy, Seven," Janeway explained. "Devoted to purely theoretical pursuits and the development of science personnel. Only the very best minds graduate from there."

Seven thought about that. She knew that she had a unique sort of memory, and that she was considered extremely intelligent by the Voyager crew, but she had believed that a lot of it had to do with having the knowledge of thousands of species in her mind, of her experience in the Collective. Now, it appeared that her intelligence was a natural occurrence.

Hansen was regarding Janeway narrowly. "You're Johnson's counterpart, aren't you?" she said, more a statement than a question. "You're only a captain. Are you as close-minded and rigid an individual?"

"Janeway is the finest captain in the fleet," Seven said abruptly, frowning as she regarded the scientist. "Furthermore, she is my captain. She deserves far better than that tone of disrespect from you."

"Don't tell me you've let Starfleet brainwash you?" Hansen said with a trace of disgust. "I would have expected better of myself. But then," she added in an afterthought. "Being assimilated probably left you open to all sorts of suggestion. Johnson's always been good at getting her own way. Even if it is the most asinine, limited, militaristic way there is. I suppose Janeway is the same way. "

Seven took a breath. She knew that she was being insulted by the other woman. That was irrelevant. But it was clear that Kathryn was being insulted as well, and that was simply intolerable. She reached out to grab her counterpart, fully intending to turn her upside down until she apologized. Janeway forestalled the motion, grabbing her arms, and imposing herself between Seven and Dr. Hansen.

"Seven of Nine," she said intently, looking into Seven's face. "Whatever problems our counterparts have with each other, it does not concern us. All we need to worry about is returning to where we belong, all right?"

Seven hesitated, staring down into the beloved features of her partner. "Very well," she agreed grudgingly, after a moment. "Yet, there was no need for her to insult you."

Dr. Hansen was staring at them both with a confounded expression on her face. "You two actually get along," she muttered with a certain sort of disbelief.

"We are engaged," Seven said proudly, glaring at her. "I love Kathryn."

She was aware of Janeway wincing slightly, and she knew that she had probably revealed more than the captain wanted her to, but she was tired of hiding her feelings for Kathryn. In any event, she had overheard the captain tell Johnson that they were involved when she had eavesdropped shamelessly the night before, though, of course, it had been in Janeway's typical, roundabout fashion she used whenever she was discussing her private life, so it was hardly a secret any longer.

"Oh, boy," Dr. Hansen said in a faint voice. She went over and sat down on a chair unsteadily. "I can't imagine a universe where I would ever be in love with Vice Admiral Kathryn Johnson."

"I am not in love with Vice Admiral Johnson," Seven corrected, wanting to be as precise as possible. "I am in love with Captain Janeway."

Dr. Hansen hesitated. "What's the difference?"

Captain Janeway let go of Seven, and went over to sit on the couch opposite the young scientist, leaning forward and granting the woman her full attention. "Perhaps none. I don't know what the basis is for your conflict with the Vice Admiral, but in our reality, Seven and I make a very good team, working together with the rest of my crew toward a common goal ... returning to the Alpha Quadrant. Any conflicts we've had in the past, we've managed to resolve."

"I'd say you have, especially if you're engaged," Hansen responded tartly.

Janeway shook her head fretfully. "No, it's more a matter of accepting each other for who we are. I admit, it wasn't easy in the beginning, and we did have our share of problems, but I've always appreciated Seven's intelligence, and she's always respected my responsibilities. I do know that there'll never be a better person suited to me than Annika is ... or me to her." She paused, looking at the suddenly confused young woman with her most compassionate expression. "In any event, I am fully aware of the great capabilities of Seven's mind, and I know that yours must be equally as formidable. Will you help us find a way back to our own reality?"

Dr. Hansen regarded the captain as if she had never encountered anything like her before. Seven thought she knew what Hansen was feeling. Janeway was a unique individual, even accounting for parallel universes, and her presence was something that could not help affecting even the strongest personality. It had certainly affected Seven from the very first moment she laid eyes on the small, energetic woman on that fateful day so long ago in a Borg Cube.

"I'll do what I can," the scientist said finally. She flicked a glance toward Seven. "Besides, this is all so weird that I'd hate to miss finding out on what happens in the end. I've always known I was capable of great things. Having two of us in action should be phenomenal."

Seven raised an eyebrow. She was glad to see that modesty was not a failing from which her other self suffered.

It's happiness, Katie, her little voice prodded. Despite being lost in the Delta Quadrant, despite not knowing what's going on back home, at your core, in the center of all you are, you're happy. Johnson isn't. She may have returned to the Alpha Quadrant, but her marriage is failing, she's stuck in a desk job babysitting a bunch of spoiled civilians, and she isn't where she belongs ... at the conn of a starship. Bringing Voyager home is never going to be enough to make up for that. You just thank your lucky stars that in your reality, Seven became a part of your life.

Janeway sighed. When Johnson had returned later in the day, it was to inform them that Hansen would be staying in the suite with them for the time being. Janeway hadn't liked it, but she understood the necessity for it. It was probably what she would have done, but Seven had given her such an odd look when Janeway had assigned bedrooms that the captain had developed a definite sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wondered how furious her partner was at having to remain separate from her for a bit longer.

How much longer? Her voice asked snidely. We may be here for the foreseeable future. It's not like you have any sort of clue about returning to our own reality.

Janeway really didn't want to think about that. In truth, it gave her a sick feeling in her chest, and she could feel a palpable sense of panic dance around the edges of her mind. Rarely had she been in a position where, not only did she have no idea how to solve the problem, she was completely stymied as to where to start. Nor could she see how anyone else could could ocme up with a solution, either.

She took a deep breath. Go to bed, she told herself sternly. A little sleep could help ... it certainly couldn't hurt ... and she honestly couldn't think of anything else to do. Feeling helpless, she left the ensuite and walked into the bedroom.

Seven of Nine was stretched out on the bed, blonde head propped up on her hand, elbow bent, regarding Janeway with an avid intensity. She wqas also quite gloriously naked.

"Annika?"

Seven bent her head, eyes dark, brows lowered as she glowered at her. "I have placed Borg encryption codes on the door seal," she said, forestalling the captain's objections. "A complete scan has revealed no surveillance equipment or monitoring devices. We are completely alone within this room."

Janeway caught her breath. "Seven, we can't," she said weakly. "This is inappropriate considering the situation we're in."

"That is an unacceptable conclusion," Seven said firmly.

"Seven...." Janeway's voice trailed off as she read the look in those eyes, becoming aware that this was an argument she could not win. For that matter, it was not an argument she particularly wanted to win.

"Yes?"

"We'll have to be ... very quiet."

The smile that spread over the Borg's face lit up the entire room, and set her sapphire eyes aglow. "I might point out that it was not my vocal emanations that required additional soundproofing be added to our quarters on Voyager," she pointed out silkily.

"Oh, my darling," Janeway countered warmly. "You were very responsible for that."

Seven raised her head, continuing to smile. Her look intensified. "Are you coming to bed?"

Janeway glanced down at the drab grey Starfleet-issued pyjamas, then looked back at Seven as she grinned. "I was on my way," she admitted. "I suppose it would be a good idea to lose these."

"You are beautiful in whatever you wear," Seven assured her. "However, it would be acceptable if you were to remove them."

Janeway shimmied out of the simple cotton outfit, and stood before Seven's appreciative gaze, feeling suddenly shy though she didn't know why. She knew she had been blessed with a fast metabolism that left her lean and wiry, but she also could not deny that stress and time were starting to take their toll, her belly rounding into middle age instead of the board flatness she had enjoyed when she was Seven's age, the breasts no longer displaying the perkiness of youth, sagging slightly on her chest. On the other hand, she wouldn't want to be in her twenties again, she thought. She rather liked the person she had become, and the sheer love and naked want in Seven's eyes made her feel like the most desirable being in all the universes.

"Come here," Seven requested huskily. "Please."

Janeway slipped into the bed next to her partner, feeling Seven's arms wrap lovingly around her torso as she buried her head into the soft hollow of Seven's shoulder, clinging to her tightly. It felt so good to touch her once more, to feel the wonderfully lush body pressing tightly against hers. For a moment, she gloried in the utter delight of being with Seven again, of having these warm arms holding her so powerfully, protectively, shielding her from the cold reality outside. The fear and helplessness she had been feeling, receded as she absorbed the embrace, wanting nothing more than to confide her apprehension to Seven, yet remaining hesitant. She was Seven's captain. She had to be strong for her.

"What is causing your concern?" Seven asked quietly, cradling the captain gently without any attempt to do anything beyond, apparently knowing something was troubling her partner.

"Nothing," Janeway whispered. "I'm just so glad to be with you again."

"I am glad to be with you," Seven told her, as she kissed her temple tenderly. "But there is still something bothering you. Tell me."

Janeway took a long, slow breath, inhaling the warm scent of her lover, completely unable to resist the demand in the soft voice.

"Oh, darling," she said reluctantly. "We are in such trouble."

"We have been in trouble before," Seven reminded her with quiet humor. "We, undoubtedly, will be again, but if you are referring to the fact that we have little data regarding our present situation, then you must realize, I will find a solution. I always do. Additionally, you have two of us working on the problem."

"I do, don't I?" Janeway smiled, reassured by the confidence in her lover's voice despite knowing that Seven was far from omnipotent. Yet, Seven also knew her captain was less than perfect ... and had complete faith in her, anyway. Could Janeway do any less?

"I also believe that Voyager is currently working on a way to retrieve us."

"If they're able," Janeway noted with some apprehension.

"We have no way of knowing in either case," Seven said. "Unless we have evidence to the contrary, I prefer to believe that B'Elanna is working just as hard as I and my counterpart will be in determining a way to find us." She paused. "It would be helpful if this universe's Lt. Torres could assist."

Janeway shook her head. "This reality's Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres were assigned to the USS Liberty," she said. "They're on patrol along the front. Even if we could lure her away from Captain Scott, she couldn't return here in anything less than two months."

"Unfortunate," Seven said. She reached up and stroked Janeway's hair gently, raking her fingers through the short locks soothingly. "I know that you are worried," she added. "You must have hope, Kathryn."

Janeway chuckled. "I'm usually the one telling you that," she said. "You would tell me that hope is irrelevant."

"Perhaps before," Seven whispered. "No longer. When I was assimilated, I had nothing. I would rather have hope."

"That's a good way to be," Janeway said. She pulled back a little so that she could look into her lover's narrow features. "I promise. I'll try to maintain my hope as well."

Seven smiled and bent her head, resting her forehead on Janeway's. "That is all I can request," she said. "I will not fail you."

"I know you won't," Janeway said, kissing her gently on the nose. "You never have."

She closed her eyes as Seven pulled her against her, feeling the generous mouth seek out and capture her lips. How long had it been since they last kissed? If she couldn't pinpoint the time exactly, then it was far too long. She made a soft sound in her throat as she was captivated by the taste and touch of her partner, remembering too late that she was supposed to be quiet.

"Oh dear," she said throatily as Seven finally released her. "I don't know that I can keep the noise down."

"Then, do not," Seven said firmly. "If my other self is disturbed by the sound of people in love, then that is her problem."

Janeway laughed, raising her head as Seven proceeded to nibble her way along her neck and over her jaw, reveling in the feel of the young woman against her. "Darling, I think I'm a bit uncomfortable knowing someone might hear us."

Seven growled and bit her earlobe.

"Ow," Janeway yelped, more startled than stung by the unexpected nip. "Have you been receiving tips in making